


Strangers We Are

by wolfzaa



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Caspian Needs a Hug, Coming Out, Family Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Reunions, Sibling Bonding, like seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-10-25 10:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10762707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfzaa/pseuds/wolfzaa
Summary: The four Prewetts grew up remembering something they didn’t understand. Maybe, somewhere in the past, they were actually the Pevensies instead of Prewetts. Maybe they got another chance to fix the broken part of their souls. Maybe they could live it better this time.Obviously, Edmund didn’t know how. He was still haunted by the memories of one certain king, the Seafarer, every time he closed his eyes. He needed to learn how to stop longing for someone he had never met.  Hehadto learn how to stop thinking of someone who wasn’t even real; not in this world, not to Edmund Prewett.He couldn’t.How pathetic of him.(Or, a Reincarnation/Modern setting AU nobody asked for.)





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Jesteśmy sobie obcy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209431) by [WinchesterBurger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterBurger/pseuds/WinchesterBurger)



> Also, for Thai version: [หาอ่านได้ทางนี้เลยค่ะ](https://writer.dek-d.com/dekd/writer/viewlongc.php?id=1197067&chapter=69)
> 
> The characters’ appearance will be 100% based on movie, while the story will be somewhere between book-verse and movie-verse.  
> I’m a sucker for everything with a happy ending, so here we go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is now finally beta'd, with a million thanks to [Saoirse Mooney](http://archiveofourown.org/users/achuislemochroi/pseuds/Saoirse%20Mooney)! YAYYY :D

 

The Prewett family was crowded with four siblings.  Mr and Mrs Prewett couldn’t be any prouder of them.  Peter, the oldest, and Lucy, the youngest, wore their father’s outgoing vibes while Susan and Edmund, the second and third child, had their mother’s wit.  They weren’t the top of the class, nor were they the most popular, but everyone in school knew the Prewetts well enough from the picture of them walking together through the front gate -- or at least, that was when Peter and Susan hadn’t graduated yet.  The oldest Prewett was one of the star players of their football team and Susan was quite popular among boys.  People talked about them most of the time, so after they both went to university, the other Prewetts were left in peace.  Edmund was quite grateful -- he preferred staying quietly in the background anyway -- while Lucy was and always had been the centre of her small group of friends, so she saw no difference.

It was known among students how close the Prewetts were, but what they didn’t know was that the four didn’t get along this well before.  They gave each other silent treatment most of the time at home back when they were younger.  No one at school knew that Peter had a problem growing up, having the urge to push himself too hard, while Susan, shockingly quiet and wary, always tended to isolate herself from her siblings.  They didn’t know that Edmund’s snarky little remarks always set Peter off and made Susan wince, although their parents didn’t understand why their kids reacted so badly to some random normal words coming out of Edmund’s mouth.  Lucy, too, was able to take her brothers and sister aback every time she opened her mouth as though she knew a hundreds of extremely secret foul words adults couldn’t relate to.  She wasn’t even as rude as Edmund, only... well, _weird_ , since she always talked nonsense even for kids her age.

Nobody knew what they all had been through, or how and when they had changed.  Peter would shrug it off when asked.  Susan would pretend she knew nothing.  Edmund would, as always, drop a dry comment or two and deflect like a pro.  Lucy would just smile back and shake her head, saying it was a secret saved for them and them alone.

In fact, they didn’t think anyone would understand.

Mr and Mrs Prewett didn’t know what happened to their kids, but they were quite positive that things began to shift after Lucy’s eighth birthday.  The only thing they knew was the kids went stargazing that day, all by themselves.  It was Mrs Prewett’s idea anyway, as she noticed how her baby girl loved looking at the night sky.

They lived in a suburban area where nature met town, where there was an open field nearby that was safe enough for the kids to go camping on their own.  Peter and Lucy were excited as usual.  Susan couldn’t stop smiling, though she was still a tad hesitant to admit how much she wanted to spend more time with her brothers and sister.  On the other hand, Edmund was against the idea from the first moment he heard it.  He had no other choice but to go with them anyway, grumbling all the way to the field, up until they were on top of the hill.

“It’s cold,” Edmund muttered under his breath as he crawled out of the tent, shivering a bit as he got cold easily.  The others, even Susan, were having fun trying to read the star map their dad gave them earlier. “This is stupid.  Have you ever heard of this thing called the internet?  You want to see the galaxy, Google it up, why don’t you?”

“Ed!” Peter glared at him while Susan retreated instinctively, looking at everything but them. “It’s your sister’s birthday.  Can’t you just be quiet for a second?”

“I was, a second ago when _you_ were the one talking.”

“Ed!”

“I thought you like stargazing,” Lucy said in her usual dreamy tone; nobody could tell if she was implying a question or not.

“In your dream, Lu,” Edmund scowled. “I hate camping.  Why can’t we just stay inside and bury Lucy under those stuffed unicorns of hers?”

“But dream-you likes stargazing!” she claimed with a wide grin on her face as if she didn’t hear him. “We all do!  And stars are lovely.  There’s this pretty girl---”

“Wow.  Bad pun detected.”

“What is a pun?”

Edmund scoffed, “You’re talking about the stars in TV, right?  So that means---”

“What?  No!  I’m talking about _them_!” Lucy pointed up to the sky. “I don’t know this one, but the sky I’ve seen before is full of people.  Star people!”

Edmund opened his mouth but nothing came out this time.  Susan was shifting uncomfortably in her seat at her sister’s words.  Peter was the last one to catch up.  He groaned a bit as he mumbled, “Oh, here we go again.”

Lucy didn’t hear that, fortunately. “Do you think there are people up there here too, Peter?  In England?”

“As if you’ve been anywhere else before.”

“But Narnia’s sky is different, Ed!  You know that!”

Edmund inhaled sharply as he was left speechless for the second time in a row.  Peter and Susan, too, were caught off guard, stunned as though someone had punched them right in the guts.

That was the first time the other three had heard the name.

Lucy was oblivious to her siblings’ shocked expression, however.  She gazed upon the clear sky intently -- as if she was trying to learn their deepest secrets, or even to _communicate_ with them -- while the others just exchanged glances back and forth, initially scared they were the only one affected by some random name Lucy might have made up by chance; then surprised when they found the same incredulous look on their brothers’ and sister’s face.

“What--- What did you just say?” Peter was the first one to find his voice, too hoarse and small to his own ears.

“Oh, Star people?”

“No, after that.  What sky were you referring to again?”

Lucy’s smile broadened. “Narnia’s sky, of course!”

Edmund abruptly stood up from the blanket he was sitting on, his face was paler than usual as he tried to snarl, “You’re making things up again!”

“No, I’m not!” Lucy fought back. “I’ve been there before!  You too!  We were Kings and Queens of Narnia, don’t you remember?”

“It’s just a silly dream---” Edmund started; then suddenly paused. “Wait.  You’re not supposed to know about _my_ dream!”

Susan was frowning now, confused. “You...too?”

“What?”

“Wait a second,” Peter cut in. “You guys are saying you dream about this Narnia thing too?  And--- And those Kings and Queens things?”

“Since… Since I could remember things, yes,” Susan answered, her voice was still wary, as well as her eyes.  Edmund gaped at them, dumbfounded, while Lucy practically beamed.

“I knew it!  Have you ever seen Mr Tumnus?” Lucy asked with enthusiasm. “And Reep?  And the beavers?  Oh, I’ve mentioned about the beavers before, right?” She turned to her second brother. “Right, Ed?  We went to the zoo and I told you about the beavers!”

Edmund hesitated, didn’t dare to meet her glimmering eyes.  Instead, he turned to Peter for help, too baffled to put on his mean-y façade like he always did, which was rare enough for him to show his brother his own vulnerability.  The silent pleading in his eyes was so utterly sincere Peter couldn’t just ignore it -- not that he would.

That was when their worlds began to rotate, turning upside down.

It was supposed to be just a bizarre dream -- the one they had almost every night.  Coincidence or not, they didn’t expect the others to share it, and here they were, growing up thinking they were the odd one out and no one could understand them; that Peter would find them childish, or Susan would call it nonsense, or Edmund would mock them to no end, and Lucy was already weird to begin with.

It seemed like they were equally weird now, all four of them.

“Maybe we should talk about it, see if it’s the same Narnia we’ve dreamed about,” Peter suggested eventually.  Susan and Edmund seemed so lost.  Though Peter was only thirteen and no less appalled by the situation; he, as older brother, was bound to keep it cool for their sake. “Do you remember my nightmares?”

Edmund hummed. “Those where you’d always end up kicking me off the bed?”

“Well… Yeah, those,” Peter admitted sheepishly. “Actually, they weren’t nightmares.  I just dreamed about battles we fought during our reign.  Sometimes it’s just us being the Pevensies.  Sometimes I see the throne and all of us in, uh, Cair Paravel?” His last word sounded unsure as he felt a bit weird, saying it out loud, letting those Narnia things into his reality for the first time.  He looked around nervously. “Somebody please says something now, or I’ll start feeling like an idiot here.”

“I saw Cair Paravel,” Susan mumbled carefully. “I remember the forest and the practice field.  And… and those talking animals.  And the court.  And…”

She trailed off, dropping her gaze down to her feet.  Peter nudged her softly with his elbow in encouraging manner. “And what, Susan?”

She still refused to look up.

“...And how I always woke up alone, couldn’t find any of you.”

Of all things she could have mentioned, they didn’t expect _this._

Nobody knew what hurt more; the story left unsaid, or the helplessness behind her every trembling word.  To them, Susan had never been helpless -- she was the smart one.  She always knew what to do, both in their dreams and in reality.  She was calm and rational and logical.  They had the same impression that she was the only one who could move on.

But maybe, maybe, she hadn’t moved on at all.

Susan kept her eyes shut as she tried her best to fight back tears, breaking her siblings’ hearts along the way unknowingly.  She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath, perhaps an explanation of what she had seen in her sleep, but the others needed none of it this time.  They all knew it by heart; how dream-Susan had distanced herself at some point, every single night, before a loud crash and darkness swallowed them and _snap_ \-- they woke up, panting hard, sometimes with tears streaming down their faces.

They remembered it all too well.

Lucy moved closer to wrap her small arms around Susan’s waist.  Peter gave her a soft squeeze on her arm as Edmund awkwardly patted her back.  Then Lucy whispered, “It’s okay,” and “We love you, Susan,” repeatedly, sincerely, and the older girl couldn’t fight it anymore.  She let out a soft choking noise, sobbing into Lucy’s hair.  That was the moment Peter decided he needed to do something, so he tugged Lucy and Edmund’s arms and pulled them into a group hug with Susan at the centre.  For the first time in years, the younger boy didn’t protest.

They were still yet to know the true meaning of their dreams, but those scars left on their hearts every morning were real enough to feel pain.

They had every right to feel it.

The four kids stayed like that for a long while until Susan could get a grip on herself again.  She wiped her face and gave them a grateful smile.  Edmund squirmed a bit, awkward as much as a ten-year-old could be towards physical affection.  Susan noticed it and leaned back to give her younger brother some space.  Lucy was still clinging at her waist.  Peter stifled his chuckle but his eyes gleamed.  Susan rarely opened up to them -- blamed those dreams and nightmares she had suffered -- but he was glad she could trust them now.

Something suddenly filled a hole in his heart -- something he couldn’t even describe -- erasing the guilt of the Pevensie boy who hadn’t tried harder to convince his sister: not to believe, but to be there for each other once again.

Their mum was a genius for coming up with the stargazing idea.

“I remember the lamp post too, if you know what I mean,” Peter said as he finally released Susan from his arms.  He turned to his brother and hoped Edmund wouldn’t be so difficult after Susan’s breakdown. “What about you, Ed?  Is yours the same?”

Edmund tensed up.  He stubbornly pressed his lips together and was about to glare at them, but Susan beat him to it, looking back at him with curious teary eyes, and Edmund gave in.  He wasn’t as cold as he tried to be, after all.

“I don’t remember the court much, but it’s called Cair Paravel for sure,” was all he could manage. “I… I don’t know.  Most of them are just a blur and it changes every time.”

“Mine too,” Lucy chimed in. “But every time I’d see Mr Tumnus and Aslan!”

“And mine’s a sword-fight,” Peter supplied helpfully. “You’ve got one too, right?  The vividest one.”

“Mine’s a lot like Susan’s, then.” Edmund took in a deep breath before he continued, “I saw her -- the Witch, I mean.  And snow.  And the sea.  And… and Caspian.” He shook his head grimly. “I don’t want to dream about those again.”

“Caspian?” Peter blinked. “Why not?  I understand if you don’t want to see the Witch -- I wouldn’t want to either if I were you -- but Caspian is our friend!”

“I remember him too.” Susan smiled.  Her posture relaxed as her siblings didn’t seem to hate her like she had initially feared. “I don’t dream about him much, but he’s nice.”

“He’s more than nice!” Lucy said with a glint in her eyes, but it quickly died down when she remembered what her brother had said earlier. “Why, Ed? You don’t like him?”

They all looked at the boy expectantly and Edmund didn’t know how to answer.  He, now, was only ten years old.  The memories didn’t make him grow up like Narnia had done to the dream-him the first time he entered the world.  To present-him, it was only a dream.  Some kept haunting him when he was awake; some slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.  He couldn’t quite grasp a whole concept of feelings he had in those dreams, where he was another person, living a different life.  The only thing he knew was it hurt; it hurt so bloody much to see Caspian every time he closed his eyes, just to open again and face nothing in reality.  He had no idea why it hurt that much.  It was only just a dream.  Edmund didn’t think his siblings would understand, nor he could find a right word to explain those flooding emotions inside his chest.

It was far too much for a ten-year-old.

“I like him.  It’s nothing,” Edmund replied eventually. “I just--- I don’t want to see the White Witch, is all.”

Susan hugged him again without saying anything and Edmund was grateful for that.  He buried his face in her shoulder shyly, awkwardly -- perhaps he would always be this awkward every time the three made sure he wasn’t alone, but it was all right.  Peter ruffled his hair and Lucy threw herself at him, trying to form another group hug with Susan.  Edmund yelped in protest; he soon became a wriggling mess under the girls’ firm grip while Peter couldn’t help but laugh.

It was a magical moment reserved for the four of them.

 


	2. A Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons, a phase, and a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's now beta'd!

 

Life went on after that fateful night.

Things slowly changed, little by little, to Mr and Mrs Prewett’s surprise.  They had always been worried about the children, seeing them struggling through their teens, although Lucy was still a child at that point.  Then, someway, somehow, out of the blue, they came to their senses.  Susan was less reserved and wary around the other kids.  Peter became more perceptive and learned to enjoy his brother’s sarcasm.  Edmund tried to be less mean about everything, although he was still the snarky one.  Lucy was still cheery and dreamy as ever, but she was learning to separate her life and dream apart so she wouldn’t freak the adults out, reassuring them that she was still as sane as everybody.

They learned to live among others.  They were learning to live their lives.

The Prewetts still didn’t know what Narnia meant to them, if it was real or not, so they went with the past-life theory as Susan suggested.  Maybe, somewhere in the past, they were the four Pevensies instead of Prewetts, living during wars, both in England and Narnia.  Maybe they had another chance to fix the broken part of their souls.  Maybe they could live it better this time.

Peter went to study Management at university; now restlessly waiting to join a training program of a well-known corporate company.  Susan followed him a year later for History, and later Edmund for pre-law.  It was Lucy’s idea to share a flat near the tube station once they moved out, since Peter and Edmund went to the same campus and Susan’s was within the tube distance.  Lucy herself was planning to go to Art School nearby after she finished Sixth Form, so the arrangement was perfect.

They now didn’t discuss much about Narnia; only a few comments and inside jokes here and there.  Susan was eventually able to dream about happy things after years of nightmares.  However, Edmund’s got worse.  He was having nightmares nightly these days and it was exhausting.  The other kids saw it but had no idea how to help him.  Edmund ended up having dark circles under his eyes and was always grumpy in the morning.  He rarely woke up at night, but when he did he would wake the others up too with his screaming.  They would rush to his bed, worried and frightened, as they crowded him into a comfort hug and waited until he could breathe properly.

“Was it the White Witch again?  Are you okay?” they would ask, and Edmund would nod solemnly, answering both questions at the same time.

Unfortunately, it was only half-truth.

Edmund couldn’t say that he wasn’t just _not-okay_ ; he was far worse.  He couldn’t say that he saw Caspian either, again, in his dream, fighting by the pool full of gold statues.  While Lucy wasn’t as much affected back then, he had easily turned on Caspian, filled with urges to pull his sword towards him, showing him that he wasn’t going to live in anybody’s shadow ever again.  He was Edmund the Just.  He had every right to Narnia’s land as much as Caspian -- no -- even _more_ than a Telmarine like Caspian.  He had been in Narnia long before the other man was born, by the Lion.  Wasn’t it his whose reign was called the Golden Age?  Wasn’t it him who was the best diplomat of them all?  He had every right over him, not the other way around.  He had every right to pull the man close and crush their lips together, claim him, mark him, push him against the wall and demand submission.  He had every right to destroy him and take his throne.  He could be a better king.  He could rule much better than Peter.  He could be much better for Caspian than Susan.  And he could be loved better than Lucy.  He could be everything.

Yet he was, in fact, nothing at all.

At the age of nineteen, he understood the primitive desire he hadn’t when he was ten.  (Edmund had never considered himself gay.  He had never considered himself as anything, for that matter.)  Back in the Pevensies’ era, having feelings for another man was forbidden.  It wasn’t frowned upon as much in Narnia; still, it wasn’t the best choice for a king.  It wasn’t anyone’s business if his eyes had accidentally trailed after Caspian the second time he went back to Narnia.

It shook him to the core how those feelings had been ripped from his chest, crushed and twisted wicked.  It scared him to death how the enchanted pool had brought the worst out of him, how he easily drowned in envy, lust, greed, and hatred.  It wasn’t something he could share with his siblings.

As Pevensie, Peter could be arrogant from time to time and Susan could always have doubts, but they were good souls altogether, as well as Lucy.  They didn’t know how it felt to be weak, and alone, and tempted, and corrupted.  He was just a broken soul trying to be better.  He was nothing compared to any of them.

He remembered how the Pevensie boy had felt: like the last snowman left under the summer sun, melting, dying slowly under the strong sunlight that was his siblings.  He remembered how he had been: poisonous and ugly and disgustingly selfish, unlike the responsible Peter, smart Susan, and pure Lucy.  He couldn’t tell the other three it wasn’t the Witch that scared him most; it was the picture of himself on her throne -- the picture of himself on Caspian’s throne -- and he was well aware of what he was capable of.

Of what evil he could become.

Thus Edmund never mentioned it, knowing they wouldn’t understand.  They didn’t know why he always woke up with tears on his cheeks either.  They would never realize how much he could feel for one certain King.  How he laughed and smiled, so carefree, on the _Dawn Treader_ , lying next to Caspian at night or standing close to him below decks.  How he saw the moon and the sun and the stars shining upon the midnight sky that was Caspian’s eyes.  How he wished he could taste those lips just once.  How he wished Caspian the best no matter what happened.  How he wished he could stay and be the better man for him, for Narnia, for everybody...  He didn’t know if Caspian had ever noticed his gaze while they were together, or if he had ever known what happened inside Edmund’s heart whenever they moved closer.  He remembered how pride had bloomed in his chest, catching Caspian’s awestruck expression whenever Edmund showed him any hint of the Just King he had once been.

Then he woke up knowing it wasn’t him, the Prewett, who had been with Caspian.  It wasn’t even the Pevensie boy Caspian had respected.  It was Edmund the Just who caught his attention; not the broken boy trying to survive, nor was the boy living a lifetime away.

Edmund couldn’t tell anyone; it was pathetic.  He needed to learn how to stop longing for someone he had never met.  He had to learn how to stop thinking of someone who wasn’t even real; not in this world, and absolutely not to Edmund Prewett.

Love was cruel.  Edmund knew it better than anybody else.

 

 

 

Edmund told himself it was ridiculous, waiting for a shadow of his own dream.  Edmund kind of hated himself for craving a touch from that goddamn King.  God, how much he hated the man, always showing up whenever he closed his eyes and giving him only a maybe, an almost, a nothing.  That bloke was a bloody tease for always stealing glances at Edmund but did nothing about it; for longing for his sister and then throwing his arm over Edmund’s shoulders, faces inches apart, whispering things into his ears.  That wasn’t fair, especially when he opened his eyes and found himself lying alone on his bed.  That wasn’t bloody fair at _all._

Right after he finally categorised what he felt for Caspian, he found a nice girl (and then a boy) to date back in high school.  He had never been an obedient kid to begin with.  Why should he wait for someone who would never be his, let alone real?  He was his own man living his own life.  He wasn’t Edmund Pevensie.  Edmund Prewett didn’t have to feel the same way as him.

Unfortunately, dating was boring.  Seriously, dating someone without really falling for them was bloody pointless.  The extent of his needs in human contact went as far as a cat wanted from its owner, read: its human slave.  It needed to be from the right person in the right place at the right time, or else he would leave claw marks all over their bodies in the form of rudeness and cold remarks.  At some point, the girl he had dated became touchy, and the boy needy, when he didn’t want it.  It wasn’t like he was against the idea of love or sex or relationships, it just never felt right with any of them.  He still woke up almost every morning with wet cheeks and pictures of Caspian seared into his brain.  It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t prolong his relationships when something in him hopelessly yearned for that bloody King.  It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t let himself be in love with anyone else.

Since he sucked at dating, Edmund put himself off the market and put his mind on studying instead.  He enjoyed his pre-law program well enough and now worked as a part-time T.A. at his campus.  He lived with his siblings who always had his back, had a few friends who got his sense of humour, and had a good job.  He was doing well in this world.  If Caspian insisted on barging into his dream most nights, let him.  Edmund had dreamed about him since forever; he saw no reason why he couldn’t continue living with that.

Well, at least that was what he thought, until one particular stranger caught his eye on the Tube.

 

 

 

A tube ride home usually went like this: Edmund found himself a spot, either a seat or a corner, grabbed his MP3 player and headphones out of his bag, turned the thing on, and spent all the way back losing himself in the music, looking at everything yet focusing on nothing.  All his friends used other lines or the Overground so he was left alone to a peaceful long ride he didn’t at all mind.  In fact, it put his mind at ease after a long day of studying and working.

A tube ride home was his sanctuary.  He didn’t expect anything to happen here, of all places.

His eyes were roaming the carriage looking for nothing in particular when, two stops from home, somebody caught his attention.  There was this gorgeous man in his mid-twenties standing in the gangway with a smartphone in his hands, texting, while Edmund, who was standing a few metres away with the crowd between them, almost dropped his MP3 player, gaping at the sight.

He must be seeing things; because he was seeing the same nape covered with the same dark curls -- yet a tad shorter and in a more modern style -- along with the same high cheekbones, the same slightly tanned skin, the same stubbled jaws, and the same eyelashes overshadowing the same midnight black irises as the man looked down.  Edmund blinked once, twice, three times, rubbing his eyes; yet the man was still there, busy staring at the electronic device in his hands.  Apart from that, he was everything Edmund could remember: tall, long-limbed, head held high, back straight, the way he was trained to be as a king -- but no king wore jeans and shirt like that.  No king of Narnia had a _smartphone_ , for God’s sake.

Edmund was positive he wasn’t dreaming.  Narnia had never blended with his world; it didn’t work that way.  He was sure he was still using the name Prewett, not Pevensie, and he was in the 21st century, not 1940-something.  Was this supposed to be a joke?  He must be so tired he was hallucinating.

But what if he wasn’t?

Edmund didn’t know what to do.  How could anyone dare wear Caspian’s face and posture in front of him anyway?  And how dare he -- that bloody Seafarer -- haunt him while he was fully awake?  That wasn’t fair.  However, he was far too stunned to process anything beyond that.  Edmund stood dead on his feet and watched streams of people moving in and out of the train, hiding the man from his sight, before it settled down and gave him a clear view of the fragment of his dream once again.  Edmund knew he should look away before it was too late, before he wouldn’t be able to forget, but he couldn’t.  Instead he let them -- every movement the man made, every breath he took, every little gesture he did -- root deep into his own brain, enough to last for another lifetime.

Edmund didn’t even hear the announcement when the tube reached his stop.  He kept staring like an idiot until the man finally looked up from his phone three stops later.  Edmund watched Caspian’s ghost tug the thing back into his pocket and hurriedly walk past him out the door, blending into the crowd, paying no notice to one pathetic boy that was himself.

Edmund swallowed a pang of disappointment and put his nonchalant mask on, his heart clenching hard enough to cause pain.  It took him two more stops, silently asking God if he hated him that much, before he could move again without risking a fall.

How could something like this be fair, after all?

 


	3. A Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses, a talk, and a prayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Now beta'd.)

 

Edmund wasn’t a fool.  He wasn’t a lovestruck teenager seeing false signs, nor was he putting his hopes up, either.  He wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it.  No, he would handle this like an adult: keep it cool, forget anything ever happened, and move on.  He was going to be all right.  He had done well before this.  He was going to be just fine.  He was going to---

Ah, fuck it.  Who was he kidding anyway?

He should have known better.  Should have known that catching the same tube, riding in the same compartment, and looking for that same fucking face in the crowd wouldn’t do him any good.  It had already been a week since he saw the guy and he’d never seen him since.  Today was no different.  Edmund sighed before deciding to rest his eyes a bit, slumping back into his seat, defeated.  Having his heart leap every time the doors opened was tiresome.  Of course Caspian wouldn’t cross his path that easily; surely Fate wouldn’t let him have it his way.  Or else they would have been together long before he was sent back to England for the final time.

He crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself and hiding every bit of hope back where it belonged in the darkest corner of his scarred heart.  He shouldn’t let it resurface in high gear like that, reaching out blindly and desperately to some random stranger who would never show up again, just to fall back down and break into thousand pieces.  He really should have known better.

Edmund turned up the volume of his music, shut his eyes tight, and let the loud beats swallow him whole.  He cracked them open again somewhere halfway through his playlist, since the announcement couldn’t work its way through his headphones, to see which station they were reaching now.  Just at that moment, he caught somebody staring at him from further up and Edmund froze.

For a moment, he even thought he was going to have a panic attack.

There he was -- _Caspian_ \-- either a ghost, a doppelgänger, or a complete stranger.  Edmund had no idea.  The man started slightly when their eyes met but refused to look away.  Edmund saw surprise and recognition creep up into his eyes before the man’s expression shifted into something very much like awe and fascination.  Prince Caspian had looked at the Kings and Queens of Old in much the same way; as if Peter were the best swordsman he’d ever seen, Susan was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, Lucy was the purest soul he’d interacted with, and Edmund--- as if Edmund was the greatest puzzle he had yet to solve.  Edmund remembered that look all too well and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.  An old woman beside him threw him a worried glance as though he was about to faint, but Edmund didn’t notice.  He was busy trying to get enough air under Caspian’s -- no -- _the stranger’_ s intense gaze.  He had prepared himself for many things if he and Caspian ever met again: something heartbreaking, something soul-wrenching, some more disappointment, and a blank look from the other man--- but nothing anywhere near _this._

He had never prepared for this -- for _his_ Caspian to look right back at him.

Edmund broke eye contact first and dropped his eyes to his hands, which were clenched into tight fists.  His nails dug deep into his palms until it was supposed to hurt, but he couldn’t feel anything.  His heart fluttered more and more weirdly by every minute.  It was too much -- too insane -- too _surreal._  How could any of this be real?

It couldn’t be.

Edmund leapt off the tube as soon as it reached the next station.  He didn’t even care where he was heading.  Edmund rushed through the crowd, practically running as he didn’t dare look back.  His heartbeat was still racing in his chest; his pulse drumming, his head spinning, his soul shattering and falling apart from the high of false hope.  There was a thin line between hope and delusion, Edmund realised, and he must be losing his mind to think that stranger had looked at him like he _knew_ ; like he was Caspian the Seafarer, the tenth of his name, the King from House of Telmar; like he knew who Edmund was and had once been; like he knew how it felt to wake up screaming a name that wasn’t even real.

It _couldn’t_ be.

It couldn’t… because Edmund wouldn’t be able to bear it if he turned out to be seeing things.  It would completely _break_ him.  Hope was a lie and he needed to retreat.  He needed to back away before he---

“Ed---!   _Edmund_!”

Then, before he could even reach the ticket barrier, a strong hand grasped his arm, hard enough to leave bruises, and spun him around.  Edmund found himself facing the same ghost from his dream and tensed up immediately.  Alarmed, the stranger instantly loosened his grip, but not enough to let him go.

“Edmund?” the man asked again in a hushed tone, like he couldn’t believe what was happening either. “Edmund Pevensie?”

_He couldn’t be._

“ _Caspian_ …?”

Edmund’s voice was barely audible, small and, to his own ears, grossly hopeful.  The stranger’s eyes brightened up at that--- _like he knew._

Like he _remembered._

People passing by were cursing at them as they were blocking the exit.  “We need to talk,” is all the taller man said before dragging Edmund back the way they’d come.

They found a quiet corner at the end of the hallway.  Edmund leant against the wall as he didn’t trust his legs to keep him up.  It should have been weird.  It should have been awkward, standing too close to a stranger in the furthest corner away from people, but it didn’t.  Edmund didn’t know what was going on anymore.  He wanted to ask, to protest, to shout out how _wrong_ this should be, but the logical part of him stopped functioning.  The other man still held him by the arm, spreading warmth and a tantalising sensation throughout his body, shrinking the universe down until there were only the two of them, shutting his rational mind down altogether.  Edmund looked into the man’s eyes and couldn’t think; only wanting, searching, begging, screaming silently, hopelessly, desperately -- while those almost blacks studied him back with a silent burning hope.

Edmund flinched as the man traced his fingers up his chin, and then cupped his face gently.  Their faces were so close Edmund could see his eyelashes and that faint tiny mole under his right eye clearly, the same way he remembered, just like every other part of him.

“My King…?” the man whispered, almost purring.

Something deep inside Edmund _snapped._ Maybe it was his self-control.

He surged forward, and the next moment their lips were crushed together like there was no tomorrow; hot and messy and neither cared if they bit the other’s lips a little too hard.  The man -- _Caspian_ \-- was pinning him against the wall with his body, towering over him like he should have done on the _Dawn Treader_ , deepening the kiss like he should have done a lifetime ago.  Edmund moaned into his mouth, didn’t care less if they were in fact strangers.  Forget logic.  Forget decency.  This was Caspian and it felt just _right._  This felt like _home_ ; like being whole once again for the first time in a hundred years, or a thousand, or maybe a million.  Edmund ran his fingers through Caspian’s hair while the older man glided his hands down to Edmund’s waist, pulling their bodies even closer.  Edmund gasped, arching into Caspian’s chest.  His heart was hammering so hard and his head was melting into some mushy useless thing as the kiss went on; maddening, intoxicating, and _oh god, how much he had wanted something like this to---_

Then, suddenly, someone burst out laughing and broke the magic.

A wolf-whistle came next.  Caspian started, abruptly pulling himself away as if Edmund had slapped him in the face.  Obviously, this part of the Tube station wasn’t as deserted as they’d thought.  When they were left alone again, Edmund was still panting hard.  Dazed, he saw a blush painted across Caspian’s cheekbones and was sure his own must be no different; maybe even redder, being so pale and all.

“I’m sorry.  I just---” Caspian mumbled sheepishly after a long period of uncomfortable silence.  They became strangers again and Edmund hated it with passion. “Sorry.  I hadn’t planned it this far.  I didn’t mean to---  Ah, shit.  I don’t even know what to say---”

Going insane, sure he was.

“Are you the tenth?” Edmund asked carefully, cutting off Caspian’s ramble.  The man stopped mid-track, blinking.

“You mean…?”

“Of your name,” replied Edmund. “Of Caspian.”

“I--- Er, yes,” the man in question stammered. “Was, I think -- but yes.”

Normally, that answer alone wouldn’t be enough.  He could be warier than Susan when it came to the topic of Caspian, but Edmund was still too high from the kiss.  Those lips proved everything he needed to know about this man; the Pevensie part of him knew it better than anybody.  Besides, how many mornings had he woken up wishing he was real?  How many times had he wished they could, for once, share the same world?  The Prewett part of him couldn’t bear it any longer.

So Edmund took a leap of faith off the cliff named hope, and he prayed.

“For your information, I didn’t think of you as my brother,” he whispered. “And I still don’t.”

Caspian stared at him, eyes wide.  Then, with a quiet growl of _‘Aslan help me’_ , he dragged Edmund into another kiss, saving his poor heart just in time, before it crashed into pieces at the bottom of the cliff.

“I’ve waited---” Caspian murmured breathlessly against his lips, “---a _lifetime_ to have you like this---”

Edmund’s response was muffled by the kiss.  They went slower this time, completely forgetting how someone could walk in on them again as they carefully blended their breath and souls together, exchanging those dreams and nightmares through their lips, igniting every memory in between.

When they finally parted minutes later, or hours, or maybe only seconds, Caspian rested his forehead against Edmund’s and whispered, “Are we dreaming?”

“We’d better not be,” Edmund hummed.  He was going in for another when his rational mind could finally steal the steering wheel back from his intuitive one. “Wait.  What--- What about your queen?  That star--- what’s her name again?”

“Lilliandil?” Caspian blinked in confusion at the sudden change of topic. “What about her?”

“What about _her_?” Edmund glared at him. “Are you kidding me?  Now I’m wondering if you’re always this dense or…”

It took Caspian a while to let out a small _‘Oh’_ as if he had never thought of the fact before.  His face was all scrunched up for the briefest moment.

“Do you really think I’m that kind of guy?” he asked.

“What?  A dick?” Edmund shot back dryly. “Do you really need me to spell it out?  You kissed my sister, you flirted with me, and then you married that star---”

“ _Not_ at the same time!”

“---and we _are_ strangers.   _I_ don’t know _you_ ,” Edmund finished, almost shouting now. “What am I supposed to think?  My name is Prewett, okay?  Not Pevensie.  I just keep dreaming and dreaming about being _him_ while I’m actually right here, getting yelled at at work because I fucked up, and I still have a shitload of assignments that need to be done.  I’m no king here.  I’m just nobody.  We’ve never met in real life before and this is bloody insane!  Even if you’re that Caspian bloke I’ve seen in my dream, how can we end up like this?  You have your Queen.  This doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“How can we---?  Oh my god.” Offended, Caspian took a step back as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I’m _not_ married here, all right?  I can’t feel a thing towards anybody else, for that matter!  And if you’re gonna put it like that; then yes, we’re strangers.  I’m _not_ Caspian the Tenth.  My name is Casper Thurman.  I grew up by the sea with my dad and grandpa and I now work at a museum, as simple as that.  Do you think I’m related to the Queen here?  My actual dad and grandad are both retired lighthouse keepers.  There’s no Caspian in my house, no royalty, and then there’s me -- that mental boy who is hopelessly in love with someone from his past life!”

Edmund stared back, bewildered.

“Wait--- So you’re saying those dreams are really our past lives?”

“Yes, or at least that’s what Aslan told me in my dream.  We’re here because we’re all broken somewhere, so…” Caspian trailed off as he shook his head. “And how can we end up like this?  Why do you think I’m here anyway?  _No_ ,” he cut the boy off before Edmund could even started; a glimpse of pain flickered in his eyes.  “You listen to me.  My father -- _Caspian’_ s father -- was there in Aslan’s Country.  Lilliandil was also there, and someday Rilian might be there too.  I lost all of them, my whole family, and spent every second of my past life trying to get them back.  I did everything in my power to make my father proud.  I mourned my Queen for years and I never stopped searching for my lost son.  But you know what?  I’ve never tried to reach out to _you._  I was bound to have an heir and you were bound to go back where you belonged.  I was scared shitless how much I wanted you, and that’s why I’m broken. _I was bound to lose you._ ”

Caspian’s voice started to crack and he stopped, taking in a deep breath before he continued, “I’m not a good soul, Edmund.  I’ve been corrupted and I wasn’t strong enough whenever you were involved.  I close my eyes and I see us fighting on Deathwater Island almost every night.  I see myself twisted and so goddamn disgusting.  There was a voice in my head telling me to claim you right there, make you mine and never let you leave Narnia again.  It told me to chain you up and lock you in and simply _destroy_ you.  I know how far I could go on that path and that’s the worst part of it.  I didn’t want to touch you again and ruin the best thing that ever happened in my life because I had no control, but I couldn’t help it.  I didn’t want you to leave with a memory of me like that either.  I don’t deserve you, not in a thousand years, but I’ve _prayed_ a million times to see you again and have another chance to---” he halted again “---Am I doing that now?  Am I… Am I ruining us?”

His eyes were pitch-black and reflected nothing as he asked the question, cutting deep into Edmund’s heart.  Caspian didn’t wait for an answer.  He pulled Edmund into a proper hug with arms slung tight around him.  He was much taller than Edmund so his lips were on his temple as he muttered a soft, “Please…” without saying exactly what he was pleading for.  Edmund heard him anyway: a hoarse, _“Please let me stay like this for a while,”_ and a choking, _“Please don’t say it’s over, not right now,”_ \-- over and over again like a prayer.

He couldn’t take it.

Because he knew exactly how it felt to be weak and scared, to be haunted by his own demons.  Because he didn’t want Caspian to feel anything like that.  Because he knew how heavy regrets and hope could be.  Because he had suffered them himself for nineteen fucking years.  Because he couldn’t bear seeing Caspian sink to where he had been.  Because he had his siblings to share this madness with while Caspian had no one at all.  Because he had wished him better, happier, than that when they were supposed to part for good…

He just couldn’t take it any more.

“Okay.”

Caspian’s body went suddenly stiff.

“What?”

“I said okay,” Edmund repeated with a bit more confidence. “Let’s give it a shot.”

“Give what a shot?”

“Going out with a stranger.” He cocked his head to one side. “Thurman, isn’t it?”

Caspian -- Casper, or whatever his name was -- studied his face incredulously, half-awed, half-confused.  Edmund didn’t know what he was seeing there: a king, a ghost, a wrecked soul, a sorry arse, or a boy who shared the same weight in his heart.

Then he smiled, the one that could brighten up the whole world.

“You’re fucking mental.”

 

If being mental meant Caspian would kiss him like that, honestly, Edmund regretted nothing.

 


	4. A Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A past, a word, and a burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Now beta'd)  
> Confession time: I really like the characterization and some events in the movies, so I'm gonna go from there. I'm sorry for some cursing in the story tho... Modern!Ed seems like a swearing type to me. lol  
> Anyway, thank you soooo so much for the support! I'm sorry I didn't answer a few comments but you guys are really amazing! *throws love around*

 

_“Where’s mum?” asked a six-year-old boy._

_His father’s eyes were red as he tried to smile for his only son.  He whispered softly, “She’s not coming back, Cas.  She’s going to a very, very beautiful place.”_

_“Like Aslan’s Country?”_

_“Like where?”_

_Casper hesitated.  He didn’t dare repeat himself.  He didn’t dare ask “Will I lose everyone again?” either.  He hugged his dad instead, wondering if anyone would be able to understand what he said -- what he had seen._

_Perhaps nobody would._

 

 

 

Ever since he was a kid, Casper Thurman had dreamed about strangers from another world.

“Who’s this lad?”

“Which lad?” Thirteen-year-old Casper shouted back absentmindedly, his nose still buried in a book.  He heard his dad grunt something unintelligible as he approached his room, following by the sound of rustling papers.

“This boy you drew.”

“I drew who?” Casper frowned; then abruptly jumped off his seat. “Shi---!  Dad! _Stop_ going through my things, why don’t you!?”

“You’re really good at this.” His dad smirked as Casper ran across the room to snatch his notebook back. “Must be from your mum.  I’ve never seen that face before, though.  Your friend from school?”

Casper rolled his eyes and left the question hanging.  If there was something his dad would never understand, it’d definitely be this weird dream he’d been having since forever.  The last thing Casper wanted to do was worry him.

That night, as expected, he had a nightmare.

He was used to it anyway.

 

 

 

_Ever since he was a kid, Caspian X dreamt of the Kings and Queens of Old._

_The Golden Age of Narnia was nothing but another obnoxious tale to Miraz, but it was everything to Caspian.  Mostly, he was fascinated by the stories involving High King Peter the Magnificent: the greatest, the best, the highest height, the closest to perfection.  According to Dr Cornelius, High King Peter was the best swordsman and the best ruler Narnia ever had.  Caspian, lacking decent role models and a steady father figure, couldn’t help but look up to said king and idealise the man, dreaming that one day he could follow in his footsteps.  That he, too, could be the best at everything, living forever in tales and stories, inspiring generation after generation._

_If only he could._

_His nurse always said he had a big heart.  Dr Cornelius had had full faith in him since the beginning, saying he would be great and he would be fair.  Caspian wasn’t so sure about that, growing up, but he was in no position to argue.  He couldn’t let them down by voicing his fear.  He couldn’t let them know how envy pervaded his system like the Long Winter had once invaded Narnia.  He couldn’t say how he was jealous, oh, so jealous of Peter for having everything he never had; family, siblings, love, someone who could share his thoughts and fight by his side, someone who would be there no matter what happened._

_The feeling felt so wrong.  He felt it anyway, and despised himself for it._

_Caspian hated it most when the voice in his head insisted how the four Kings and Queens would never know how it felt to be left alone in the dark, helpless and frightened, and how worthless he was compared to them.  The thought burnt badly and Caspian didn’t know who to ask for help.  His world revolved around a handful of people -- his uncle, his parents, his nurse… But Miraz was cold, distant, and full of hatred; while the rest were gone.  Dr Cornelius was literally the last person he had left.  Caspian didn’t want to disappoint him by showing his insecurity more than he already had._

_He wanted to be brave and he wanted to be good, just like his father, and those rulers from old tales, had been.  Just like his nurse and his mentor wanted him to be.  Hence Caspian had never mentioned the tainted spot on his heart to anyone.  He’d rather suffer alone than watch the light in their eyes fade away because of him.  He’d rather die than smash their hopes and faith to the ground._

_Thus he held his head high, and pretended he feared nothing._

_The burn never stopped, though, not even when Queen Susan’s horn worked its magic.  The four Pevensies were everything and nothing Caspian had ever imagined them to be.  He saw flaws in Peter who was supposed to be flawless.  He felt tension between the two kings who were supposed to be best friends.  He witnessed their mistakes and greatness, temper and bravery, and he was fascinated by all of them.  He was drawn to Susan’s beauty and was amazed by Lucy’s faith in Aslan.  He understood why people loved them dearly._

_Caspian also saw pain flashing through their eyes when he mentioned their disappearance, pain that screamed of how none of them ever wanted to leave in the first place, and his heart ached for being the one who reminded them of it._

_He had no right to hurt them --_ them _who_ mattered _more than anyone._

_They always mattered._

_Caspian caught the sight of the four of them in the quietest corner of Aslan's How one day, after the incident with Nikabrik and the Witch.  Caspian felt like he was invading their privacy just by looking, but his legs refused to walk away and forced him to watch.  Susan was scolding Peter on his earlier behaviour and decisions; Lucy’s head was resting on Edmund’s shoulder but her eyes were fully awake, clearly amused by the situation, while Edmund was hiding a smirk as Peter glanced over at them from time to time, silently asking for help.  They did it so effortlessly sitting there side by side; laughing and scowling and teasing and promising they’d watch one another’s back without really saying it._

_At that very moment, Edmund’s brown eyes softened in a way Caspian had never seen before.  Suddenly, a sharp pang of jealousy spread through his heart._

_The burn worsened._

_Caspian took a deep breath and dragged himself away._

 

 

 

_“Are you all right?”_

_Caspian nodded in response as Edmund moved closer.  The prince sat rooted to the spot outside of Aslan’s How, his shoulders slumped and his hair ruffled, staring blankly at the twilight sky and watching as the horizon changed from one colour to another._

_“You’re incredible,” he mumbled. “All of you.”_

_“Seriously?” Edmund snorted. “_ You _are incredible.”_

_Caspian was surprised by the lack of sarcasm in Edmund’s reply.  How could a failure like him, the tainted one, deserve such a statement?  Caspian had no idea.  He turned around with a frown, ready to prove Edmund wrong, but the King of Old didn’t leave room for argument and went back inside before Caspian could even open his mouth._

 

 

 

“Why do you keep drawing this lad?” his dad asked.

Casper, fifteen at that point, looked down at a rough sketch in his journal.  It wasn’t finished yet but his dad could figure out the face regardless.  Perhaps he had drawn this same boy too often.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

He didn’t lie, per se.  Casper remembered a great lion once entered his dream to explain things, telling him to live and to find a way to fix his damaged self; though he didn’t tell Casper where to start.  Even though his story made sense, Casper still had no idea why his eyes had followed the Just King almost every time they met in his sleep.  Aslan didn’t say anything about it and he couldn’t help but wonder.  Casper remembered how his past-self had spent his childhood idealising High King Peter.  Narnian tales usually praised Edmund as a great warrior and a skilled diplomat; a well-rounded king, yet the second best in everything compared to his brother.  He was described as good, but not great.  He simply didn’t shine as brightly.

Casper wondered when that changed.  He had a feeling Aslan wouldn’t visit his dream again; not that he’d answer the question if he ever did.

He sighed before he went back to work on his sketch.  He was used to keeping everything to himself anyway.

Unfortunately, one small part of him wasn’t.

 

 

 

 

Casper’s flat was nothing fancy.  To be honest, it wasn’t visitor-friendly either.  It was on the second floor of a nondescript building in a peaceful residential area outside Central London.  They had to transfer to the Overground and walk for another ten minutes after their stop.  Casper turned on the light and grimaced at the sight of scattered clothes and random stuff all over the place.

Luckily, Edmund was too busy talking on his phone to notice the mess.

“Yes, Lucy.  Yes.  Yeah, I’m in a middle of something here---  Uh, it’s complicated.  Don’t ask.  I’m gonna crash at my friend’s place so tell the others I’m not coming home tonight, ‘kay?  Yeah.  Thanks.  I’ll call you later.”

Casper wasn’t paying attention to the conversation as he began picking his clothes up and carelessly throwing them out of the way.  He couldn’t do that with books, though; too many of them and too much trouble.  He had no space left on the bookshelves so they had to stay where they were.  When Edmund finally finished his phone call, Casper was feeling quite proud of himself for being able to make the place look more presentable in such a short time.  At least half of the couch wasn’t occupied by textbooks and piles of documents now, his clothes were all where they belonged, and there was no rubbish on the floor.  Edmund was still standing by the door frame, scanning through the one bedroom flat.

“You live alone,” he noted; then added, “Well, obviously.”

Casper shrugged and made a gesture towards the couch. “You can sit there if you want.  Don’t mind those papers, really, they’re nothing important.  Do you want a drink?”

“Anything’s fine.”

His kitchen and living room were practically in the same room, so when Casper turned around from the fridge with a can of Coke in his hand, he almost bumped into Edmund who was standing a bit too close to him, exploring the bookcase that ran along the wall from the front door to the kitchen area.  The boy didn’t look his way as he traced his fingers slowly over a row of book spines.

“You read a lot,” Edmund commented. “You studied astronomy?”

“History,” Casper corrected him, putting the Coke back on top of the fridge as Edmund kept skimming through his collection. “But I’ve been obsessed with stars and astrology since I was a kid.”

Edmund pulled one of the books out and broke into a smile.

“My dad has the exact same copy of this at home.  It came with a star chart,” he muttered. “He let us borrow it on Lucy’s eighth birthday.  Mum told us to go stargazing.”

Casper stared at Edmund.  The part of him that was Caspian the Tenth wanted to roar with laughter and cry at the same time like a madman.  Casper Thurman might have guessed it since the very first moment he laid eyes on the Prewett boy, that the other three must be here too somewhere.  But Caspian, that lonely child, had never been ready for this.

He wasn’t ready to be burnt down again.

Casper inhaled deeply, shushed the King inside him, and said, “So I assume you guys are all here.”

“Yeah, with the same memories,” Edmund answered, flipping through pages as his eyes twinkled with amusement. “I bet Pete and Su didn’t even know how to read the chart back then.  You should have seen their faces when I found Ursa Major before they could.”

It happened again, the burn, and Caspian couldn’t bear it anymore--- not for another lifetime.

Thus, without warning, Casper pulled Edmund into a kiss.

Despite his surprise, Edmund kissed back.  Casper took it as a good sign and nibbled his lips softly, suggestively, drawing a shaky breath from Edmund and sending tremors of desire down his spine.  Edmund clumsily shoved the book back on the shelf before tipping his head to one side, changing the angle, and parting his lips slightly like a true temptation.  Caspian was about to leap into it without thinking twice, didn’t care if he’d fall apart or shatter, but Casper refused to do so.  He had dreamed about _almost_ having this far too many times and his heart had ached way too much because of it; he wanted it to last for as long as possible.  So instead, Casper kept the kiss slow and languid, drawing back whenever Edmund tried to heat up the kiss but never letting go, gently testing the sensation of Edmund’s lips against his own until the boy whimpered in protest.

“Tease,” Edmund groaned as the taller man stubbornly pressed another soft peck on his lips. “What---  Mhmm… What’s this for?”

Casper hummed. “Just making sure I’m not dreaming.”

“Still doubt it?”

“I’ve doubted that any of you were real from time to time, ever since you all left Narnia.  Old habits die hard,” Casper mumbled, trailing his mouth over Edmund’s jaw. “I’m glad you didn’t come to this world alone, though.”

That slipped out sounding more bitter than he’d firstly intended.  Edmund pulled back to look at him in the eyes and frowned.  Those browns were beautiful, Casper couldn’t help thinking, clear and bright and full of truth and determination -- the same pair that once cut through Caspian’s heart.  If only Edmund knew what power he held over him…

“You really should have been with us,” Edmund said, snapping Casper back to reality.  He lifted a hand up to the base of Casper’s neck and tangled his fingers in his hair. “I don’t want us to be just brothers, but you are and always will be my -- _our_ \-- family.  You do realise that, don’t you?”

Casper’s heart was pounding hard in his chest and his throat went dry as he found himself unable to avert his eyes from Edmund’s.  Those umber browns was revealing everything Caspian had never thought he deserved; every lost fragment the Seafarer King had searched for all his life and every missing piece of Casper’s soul.  Their breath mingled and their hearts were beating the same beat before they fell into another slow rhythm of kissing.

“You’re downright incredible,” Casper whispered, hoping he wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon.

“No,” Edmund scoffed, “ _You_ are.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I mean it,” Edmund murmured as he moved his mouth over Casper’s ear, voice low and raspy. “I really can’t imagine how you survived all… _this_ … all by yourself.  I can’t do that.  It’s fucking incredible.”

Casper gaped.  His brain was short-circuiting for the briefest moment while the other part of him started crying and laughing hysterically.  Caspian reached out before he could even think, desperate like he always had been, and leapt into the deepest ocean that was Edmund.

This time, Thurman followed him without missing a beat.

 


	5. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, a blush, and breakfast

 

A lot of things had rooted into Edmund’s memory that night: Caspian’s desperate kisses, his lips, his tongue, his expressions, the way he pinned Edmund against the bookshelf and ravished his mouth so passionately, the strength that held him in place, his low and husky voice in Edmund’s ear, a deep chuckle in his throat, his dilated pupils and all those stars shining within his eyes -- the resemblance of the same old Caspian he had dreamed about for all his life.

Other things had also found their way into his heart: the way Casper’s eyes lit up when he first called him by his current name, a smile that had never been so wide, a nervous tic that didn’t belong to Caspian the Tenth when they reached the bed, the way Casper stopped himself between a heated kiss and asked if it was okay to continue, his hot skin the Just King had never tasted, his hands, his fingers, every inch of him, every touch and every friction that just screamed _home._

Edmund remembered every second of it.  
  
He also remembered the Pevensie boy within him had choked back a sob, smiling, wondering what it’d be like if he had a chance to do the same.  Edmund heard him cried so loud his heart shattered; then all the noises were muffled back by Caspian’s demanding lips.  Casper gentled it down after a while, breathless.  In the meanwhile, Edmund laid all his guard down and let go of his control until he became an incoherent mess underneath him.  Casper’s lips then curved up into a smile that permanently bore into Edmund’s soul.

Pevensie stopped crying.

For the first time in too many years, he finally found where he belonged.

 

 

 

When Edmund woke up again, he found himself in a stranger’s bed.

Last night was good -- incredibly, ridiculously good.  He hadn’t dreamed at all, which was pretty rare considering his previous record.  Edmund dozed off for another few minutes until his sense gradually came back to him; that was when he realized he wasn’t in his own bed and his body went rigid instinctively.  The smell of bed sheet was different -- not in a bad way, just different -- and a pillow was a tad too soft to be his.  Edmund couldn’t remember a thing for the briefest moment and was so close to panic when something warm and solid -- more like _someone_ \-- stirred behind him.

Edmund was fully awake now.  Under the sheet, he felt a strong arm wrapping over his torso as he was pulled into a loose hug.  Then the realisation hit him.

The recollection of last night instantly peeled tension off his muscles like magic.  Edmund snuggled closer into Caspian--- no, _Casper’_ s chest.  He was new to wake up in someone else’s arms -- he had even been against the idea back when he was still dating -- but Casper’s hands on his skin felt so good he didn’t want to move at all.  His presence was overwhelming.  Edmund was so hyper-aware of the fact now that his back was leaning against the other man’s broad chest and their legs were entangled.  Casper’s long hair was slightly ticklish over Edmund’s neck as the man unconsciously nuzzled the sensitive skin under his ear yet Edmund couldn’t bring himself to care.  Every touch of Casper felt just _right_ and--- Oh.

_Oh._

The boy sighed in contentment.  He could get used to this, Edmund decided.  He definitely could.

 

 

 

Edmund cooked them breakfast.  A good night sleep did a good job in getting him out of bed earlier than usual.  He was wearing an oversized t-shirt he’d fished out of Casper’s wardrobe and his own boxer shorts, waiting for his coffee to be ready at the table, when the other man finally showed up.  There was nothing left on his plate but the other was filled with scrambled eggs and a pair of toasts spread with butter and marmalade.  Nice smell of coffee floated all over the small flat.  Casper, later confessed that he usually slept in on his day off and had no idea how Edmund could be up before ten on Saturday morning, looked around the kitchen area and almost proposed to the boy at that instant.

“Remind me to buy you a ring, m’kay?” Casper muttered while leaning down to place a soft kiss on tousled dark hair.  Edmund laughed before he could stop himself and lightly shoved him off.

By the time Casper exited the shower with wet hair and a towel draping over his shoulders, Edmund had already had a cup of coffee ready for himself.  He was staring intently at something under the table, presumably on his lap where Casper couldn’t make out from his angle, hardly paying attention to the newcomer.

“What are you doing?” Casper asked as he sat down across from the boy; then distracted by the meal in front of him. “Holy--- What did I do to deserve this again?”

“Nothing.  You’re just lucky I was hungry,” Edmund replied absentmindedly. “I’m not doing the dishes, though.”

“Fair enough,” Casper agreed. “What are you looking at?”

“First of all, I’m letting you know I didn’t mean to pry---”

“Now I’m worried.”

“---I accidentally knocked it off the table when I slipped out of bed and it fell open.  I couldn’t help it,” Edmund finished and lifted a black-covered journal up from under the table, “But I think I have rights to see it anyway.  I didn’t know you could draw.”

Casper’s jaws dropped ungracefully when he had a clear view of it. “Oh, _bloody hell_!”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It _is_ that bad!” he cried in dismay.  Edmund suppressed a grin while giving the journal back to its owner.  Casper snatched it hard he almost teared it in two pieces without looking into Edmund’s eyes, groaning under his breath, “I’m officially cancelling my proposal, you little devil.”

“Why?  You’re good,” Edmund commented with a raised eyebrow. “ _They_ ’re good.”

Mortified, Casper added, “And creepy.”

“And impressive.”

“You’re not…weirded out?” Casper blinked in disbelief.  Edmund shook his head as an answer. “How could you not---  Okay.  I… I really don’t know what to say now.”

“Just accept the compliment?” Edmund suggested.

Still blushing hard, Casper cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “It’s still embarrassing,” he murmured.

Edmund cocked his head slightly, smirking. “I also didn’t know you’d be this cute when you’re flustered.  This is precious.”

“...You’re cruel.”

“How dare you.  I deserve a _Best Boyfriend Ever_ trophy with my name on it and nothing less.  I made you breakfast.”

Casper opened his mouth, about to shoot back a comment, and then stopped halfway with knotted eyebrows.  He pondered his thoughts before he started over, “Is that what we are now?  Boyfriends?”

Caught off guard, now it was Edmund’s turn to blush and Casper’s to grin triumphantly.  The boy quickly glanced away.  He coughed into his fist as he stumbled on his words, “Uh… Yes--- Yes, I guess?”

Casper hummed approvingly. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he remarked.

Edmund glared at him. “You stole my line.”

“You stole my shirt _and_ my journal.  Fair’s fair,” Casper pointed out before he started eating, leaving no room for further bickering.  Edmund mockingly pulled a face at him despite a smile that was forming at the corners of his mouth, red still lingered on his ears.  He wasn’t as calm as he pretended to be.  Finding dozens -- if not more -- sketches of _himself_ in a stranger’s possession was surely quite an experience.  Edmund was glad Casper wasn’t there to witness him all red and flustered when he found the journal.

Those drawings were incredibly good for nonprofessional.  Most of them were only quick doodles yet significant features were all there he could hardly miss whom the model was.  Edmund flipped through the pages, carefully stroking his fingertips over the sketches; stunned, awestruck, fascinated.  Every picture clearly depicted how Caspian saw the Just King, how his heart contained such strong emotions towards the boy, how it broke into smithereens, and how Casper was left to endure the consequences all by himself.  He recognized the loneliness in every line that formed into the pictures of himself -- from Casper’s voice, from Casper’s eyes, from every gesture he made -- and something deep inside Edmund’s chest twisted oddly.

The boy spent the entire morning trying to collect himself while dwelling on how he was going to look at the man again without combusting.  Fortunately, God took pity on him by sending Casper out of his room with sleepy eyes and disheveled hair instead of a knowing smirk.  Then he glanced between Edmund and a coffee machine, slipping out a soft, breathless, _“Marry me,”_ and all Edmund’s nervousness suddenly evaporated.

Falling into a comfortable silence with Casper was strangely easy.  Edmund had expected this morning to be more awkward, yet here they were, falling naturally into another perfect rhythm they made for each other.  Edmund sipped on his coffee while watching the man ate quietly as though they had lived together for years.

It was weird, in a way, to feel a sense of belonging with someone he only met yesterday.  He didn’t know anything about Casper sans the memories of the Seafarer King.  He didn’t know he could draw.  He didn’t know how he grew up or how he saw the world.  He didn’t know how many times Casper had doubted his existence because the Caspian part of him was so loud he couldn’t hear himself, just like Pevensie had done to him.

He wanted to know more and he wanted to see more -- so much more he didn’t think he could ever let go.

Casper finished his breakfast and moved on to do the dishes.  “I haven’t asked you about your siblings yesterday,” he spoke conversationally. “How are they?”

“They’re doing fine,” Edmund replied.  He furrowed his brows before he added, “I still have no idea how I’m going to tell them, though.”

“Tell them about what?”

“Things.” Edmund gave him a noncommittal shrug. “More specifically: us.”

Casper seemed surprised. “They… don’t know?”

“I’ve never told them about you---  Well, technically, I did, but I was too young to explain anything so it doesn’t really count,” answered Edmund. “I think Lucy suspected something when we were on the _Dawn Treader_ , but I don’t know how much she can recall it now.  Peter and Susan didn’t have a clue about us, like, at all?  We had enough drama between us four back when we were Pevensies so I didn’t want to bring up a lost cause.”

“What happened back then?” Casper asked after he had put the last clean plate away.  He turned around and leaned his hip against the sink as he went on, “Eustace didn’t tell me much about all of you.  We didn’t have much time when we met again, but I assumed he’d told you about my life.”

Edmund nodded in reply.  His hands were wrapping around the coffee cup, fingertips drumming softly against the porcelain.

“We didn’t talk much -- the four of us, I mean,” he began. “No, let me rephrase it: we didn’t talk _to Susan_  much.  She had distanced herself and we didn’t know how to deal with her.  It always ended up with Peter shouting and Lucy crying, and I might have said something that made her threaten to wash my mouth with soap -- you know that era.  So we stopped talking altogether and just accepted that….” Edmund took in a deep breath and continued, “That she forgot about Narnia.”

Casper’s eyes widened. “She _what_?”

“I’m not going to repeat myself.”

The man stood stock-still, dumbfounded.  Edmund sighed sympathetically.  Talking about Susan had never been easy for anyone but Casper still had rights to know about her before they reunited.  Susan had suffered enough in both lives.  Edmund wasn’t going to let her repeat the story to Casper herself and descended into another lot of self-pity.

“But how could she…?” Casper muttered to himself in confusion.  It took him a few moment to put all the pieces together. “Wait.  Now that you mention it, I think that makes sense.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You remember when she kissed me?  She told me to send Narnia her farewell right after.  I’ve never thought much about it until now,” the man explained. “She didn’t even kiss me; _she kissed Narnia goodbye._ ”

Edmund acknowledged with a soft, “Oh,” as he didn’t trust his voice to comment on it.  She had never mentioned the event and he had never been bold enough to ask, but Casper was right.  That made sense.

Back when they were younger and Susan’s nightmares still had powers over her, she usually woke up screaming during nighttime.  The other three took turns to lend her shoulders and listen to her confession until they fell asleep together.  Edmund had been there enough to know how his sister’s thoughts operated.  She had wallowed in guilt for years before she could finally cope with it and forgive herself.  Edmund wasn’t sure if she could do the latter yet, but she was trying her best.

“Don’t think less of her,” Edmund said with more seriousness in his tone. “Aslan told her she couldn’t go back to Narnia.  It was her only way to deal with it -- to push away grief.  People do stupid things like that sometimes -- cold and cruel and stuff.  She’s cried too many times in this life and I don’t want to see that anymore.”

Casper smiled at him, the one that urged his stomach to do a somersault.  Maybe Edmund shouldn’t be so worried about Susan’s honour.  Casper always wore the eyes of a believer; he wouldn’t look at any of them with different eyes even though they had him by his throat.

“You’re more protective than I remember,” Casper noted.  Edmund chewed his inner cheek, trying his best to ignore the heat that was creeping up his neck.

“Is there a problem?”

“No.” Casper shook his head in amusement.  He moved across the room to Edmund’s side before he placed his hand over the lean shoulder and bowed down until their eyes levelled, their faces inches apart.  His deep brown eyes darkened as though they had dipped into the shade of black as he spoke softly, “The real question is -- will _this_ be a problem for her?”

Their lips brushed briefly and it still felt right.  Edmund exhaled shakily.  He really didn’t know the answer.

“They should’ve known my preference by now.  That shouldn’t be a problem,” he murmured, “But I don’t know if she still fancies you or not.  I don’t think she’d tell me if she does.”

Casper shot him another amused look.

“Too bad she’s never fancied me,” he said with a dramatic sigh, a smile still plastered on his face, “And too bad I’m dating her little brother now.”

Casper’s smile was contagious; Edmund bit his bottom lip to stop a spreading grin. “Right,” he scoffed, eyes twinkling in mutual amusement. “Too bad.”

“When can I go to your place, then?”

“Hmm.  I don’t know,” Edmund mused, surging forward to erase the gap between their lips once again. “Now seems like a good time -- it’s weekend anyway.  C’mon.  I’ll call Lucy and tell her we’re coming home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- I just feel like drawing our boys (especially Ed in Cas's shirt because _come on_ ) so I'm gonna put a preview here:  
>   
> You can find full pictures with colours in my [Tumblr](http://wolf-zaa.tumblr.com/post/161351995196/im-working-on-a-casmund-reincarnation-modern) ;)


	6. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-control, a roller-coaster, and the meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished faster than I thought! The Pevensies (or Prewetts, take your pick) are all here everyone.  
> Btw, this story is now available in Polish, thanks to lovely [WinchesterBurger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterBurger/pseuds/WinchesterBurger). You can check it out at the first chapter notes :D

 

Lucy wouldn’t be home until afternoon, so Edmund spent the rest of that morning in Casper’s flat.  They nestled into the half-empty couch with Edmund’s feet in Casper’s lap, talking, since their mouths were too busy down each other’s throat to have a proper conversation last night.  After Edmund finished filling Casper in with his stories including Eustace, Jill, the train wreck, and how they couldn’t remember a thing after that; they moved to a less depressive and so much more important topic: themselves -- as in Prewett and Thurman.

Casper told him about his work at the museum, his hometown, his dad and grandpa, and everything Caspian the Tenth had no knowledge of.  In return, Edmund told him more about his siblings, how they had been before and how they changed -- something he wasn’t likely to share with other people.  Casper’s smile broadened when the boy started rambling about Peter’s overprotectiveness; how Edmund’s brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t fully installed yet during his pre-teen and the oldest Prewett was so afraid his baby brother would be targeted by school bullies.

“Turns out there were easier targets elsewhere they didn’t even bother with me,” Edmund said. “I think they didn’t enjoy my company much as well.  Susan said I usually bit their heads off before they could have done anything.”

“Savage,” Casper commended. “I suppose the target role suits me better.  I had been the smallest and skinniest boy in the class for years.  They picked on me all the time.”

Edmund’s head snapped up. “No way.”

“Oh, please.  I was even smaller than most of the girls until I hit fifteen.”

“And your head hit a door frame like, what, over summer?” Edmund kicked the man’s thigh accusingly. “That’s so not fair.”

Casper stilled his aggressive foot by the ankle, smiling. “What can I say?  It’s in the gene.”

“Still not fair.” Edmund tried kicking at him again under the strong grip while Casper laughed lightheartedly; his voice sent a tingling flush throughout Edmund’s system and made him squirm harder. “Let me go, you git.  Or I’ll bribe your dad for your childhood photo album.”

“Not in a million years.” Casper glared at him as he tightened the grip.  Edmund wiggled his leg lightly.

“Stop holding my ankle hostage and I won’t seek for humiliation.”

Casper stared a hole into Edmund’s head and then raised his hands in mock defeat. “Now I’m regretting I mentioned it in the first place.”

“You brought it upon yourself.  How could I let such an opportunity go?”

“I’m not surprised why Peter was so scared someone would beat you up real bad.  Your mouth suggests it that much.”

Edmund glanced down to his thighs where Casper decided to rest one of his hands on. “And you’re suggesting something else, I presumed.”

“Am I?” Casper asked innocently although his hand spoke otherwise.  It was sliding up the hem of Edmund’s shorts in torturously slow movement, almost teasingly.  Edmund clicked his tongue before he lazily rubbed the side of his foot against the other man’s groin.  Mischievous smile bloomed across his face as Casper’s breath slightly hitched; his fingers went frozen in a sudden.

“Aren’t you?” Edmund prompted in mimicking innocence, tilting his head a little to one side.

Casper looked adorably idiotic for a good long while, gaping, before he retreated his hand and grunted out, “What am I getting myself into?” under his breath.

Edmund smirked, pressing his foot just a _little_ harder. “Oh, I can do this _all_ day.”

Casper stared at him; then, without warning, he leaned forward to pin the smaller boy against the pleated armrest in one forceful motion.  Edmund yelped in surprise.  Before he knew it, Casper already had mouthed over his collarbones, just as far as a loose crewneck allowed him to, scraping his teeth over freckled pale skin.  Edmund made a pleased noise at the back of his throat; Casper’s mouth was surely made to drive a man crazy.  It stirred every drop of Edmund’s blood and sent them up his cheeks, as well as somewhere down below.

“Don’t tempt me,” Casper whispered huskily into the crook of his neck, a dangerous edge clear in his voice. “I don’t think doing inappropriate things right before we go meet your siblings is going to be a good idea, and the sight of you in my shirt is tempting enough.”

Sucking in a deep breath and gathering himself back to the world, Edmund coughed a little. “That’s… kinky.”

“Not. Helping!”

Edmund playfully prodded the man with his knee, laughing. “You’re such a gentleman.  I think I’m in love.”

“And you, _Your Highness_ , are an utter bastard,” Casper remarked dryly, which causing Edmund to laugh even harder.  He was torn between kissing Casper senseless or keeping on teasing just to see how far he could make the man go -- his patience and self-control was fairly remarkable and intriguing, in a way.

Casper beat him to it by sweeping down to claim his mouth outright; Edmund didn’t have a heart to object such offer.

 

 

 

Lucy was home earlier than she expected.  Susan was curling in her favourite armchair with piles of papers and reference books lying all around, studying, when she arrived.  Across the room, Peter was declaring a war with their computer _again_ since the old thing had failed to start two days ago.  Edmund was nowhere to be seen.

(Her oldest brother was too stubborn to buy a new computer, but it was his problem.  Lucy and Edmund had their own laptops and Susan was happy with her tablet.  Peter could traumatize the poor thing by repeatedly dismantling it as much as he wanted.)

“Where’s Ed?” Lucy asked curiously.

Susan didn’t even look up as she answered, “I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.  I thought he was at his friend’s?”

“He told me he was coming home this morning but I was at the art gallery -- and FYI, that place is _awesome_ \-- you should go there sometime, Su,” said Lucy. “Anyways he said he had a surprise for all of us.  I… sort of expected some kind of heart attack when I got home?  He isn’t hiding in his room, is he?”

“No.  There are just me and Peter here.” Susan lowered her book and knotted her brows. “Should I be worried about this surprise?”

“He sounded genuinely excited about it.”

“That somehow worsens the case.”

Lucy giggled. “I know.  Let’s hope he won’t pull a prank on us.  I’ve had enough roller-coaster experience for one day.”

Susan looked at her quizzically. “A roller-coaster?  At the art gallery?”

“Figuratively.  I’ll tell you about it later, I promise,” Lucy replied before she disappeared into her room.  She didn’t forget to give her brother a sympathetic look as she walked past him; Peter was too frustrated with his ancient little problem to notice.

Susan shook her head in mild amusement; then continued drowning in her book.

 

 

 

Edmund wasn’t home until four.  The other Prewetts weren’t sure what to expect; Edmund was the most unpredictable among them to begin with, but at the same time, he wasn’t best known as reckless.  Therefore Peter and Susan chose not to put their mind too much into it.

Edmund didn’t make a scene when he arrived.  There was a familiar sound of jingling keys following by a soft click of the unlocking door; then the raven-haired boy swung it open and slipped in halfway as he glanced around the living room, one hand still on the door knob.  He left the door partly open and announced evenly, “Attention please, everyone.  I’ve got you a present.”

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Peter replied dryly but there was no real harm behind it.  Susan gave them both her infamous eye-roll while Lucy just stared at him curiously.  Edmund was wearing _that_ sly grin on his face he always put on before sauntering straight into trouble.  This present could be either extremely interesting or completely outrageous; there was a no in between.

Edmund moved away from the door and opened it wider for them to have a clearer sight of what he had hidden behind -- or in this case -- _who._

A tall man with messy slicked back dark hair took a careful step inside.

He slowly closed the door for Edmund as his deep black eyes searched through the room and deliberately met the three Prewetts’ one by one, as though he was imploring them to _remember._

Susan was the first to crack the silence.

_“Cas…pian…?”_

The man smiled at her shocked tone and ducked his head a bit in greeting manners. “Queen Susan, Your Majesty.”

That undid all of them from the stunned spell they fell into; both the answer and his familiar voice that always dipped low with fondness and respect for Kings and Queens of Old.  There was no mistaken.  Susan let out a high-pitched gasp as she covered her mouth with both of her hands.  Her wide eyes filled with emotions nobody had yet to read.  Peter, clearly shocked as he was, gaped unmajestically and then breathed out an incredulous huff of, “You’ve gotta be _kidding_ me!”  Then he just laughed, half-baffled, half-excited, and maybe a little hysterical as though Edmund had just laid out a solid proof of ghosts’ existence right before his eyes.  Lucy’s face split into a bright smile, and the next moment, she keenly landed herself into the stranger’s arms with a delighted scream of “ _Ohmygod ohmygod_!” and “ _Caspian_! Oh, Caspian, is that really you?  Please tell me it’s you!”  Her voice was an octave higher than usual with excitement.

Caspian -- or Casper at the moment -- was taken aback by Lucy’s fierce hug, but he found himself hugging her back and smiling as gleefully as the girl nevertheless.  Lucy had never changed; she believed in Narnia wholeheartedly and would give her all without questioning it for the slightest bit.  Her unwavering faith made her shine like the brightest sun as she had always been.  Plus, she was closer to Caspian than her other siblings bar Edmund.

“What would you say if I told you I wasn’t him?” Casper mused in a serious diplomatic tone he had used during his reign in the dream.  Lucy suddenly flinched since her small figure was buried deep into his chest she couldn’t see his smiling face.  Edmund turned away to hide his snigger.  Casper’s grin spread even wider; tightening his arms around her shoulders, he quickly added, “Just kidding, my lovely queen.  I _am_ Caspian as much as you are the Valiant.  Come here.”

“Oh, shut up!   _That_ was one cruel joke!” Lucy squeaked as she slapped his forearm hard, making the man wince in response.  Her eyes were still gleaming with joy. “Don’t look at me like that!  I won’t forgive you that easily!”

“But you threw yourself at him that easily,” Edmund retorted, though he couldn’t wipe a small smile off his face.

“And _you_ are a devious little shit for not giving us a warning!” Peter exclaimed as he approached them.  He roughly ruffled Edmund’s hair and turned to Casper before the boy could even protest, clasping his hand over the taller man’s shoulder and pulling him into a brotherly hug with a quick round of backslapping and a whisper: “It’s good to see you again, mate.”

It was over as quickly as it happened, but it was the most affectionate gesture he had ever done to Caspian, as far as the once Seafarer could recall.  Casper nodded appreciatively.  This man, too, had never changed.

Then, there was Susan.

She stood quietly and fidgeted as she observed her siblings crowded around the newcomer.  Edmund could sense her mild nervousness, facing an actual piece of her dreams and all.  Neither Peter nor Lucy had as many nightmares as Edmund or Susan; of course they didn’t feel as much insecure about letting two worlds colliding.  Hence he tugged Casper’s sleeve and discreetly nodded towards his older sister.  Casper followed his direction and put on an understanding smile when his eyes met her properly for the second time.

Edmund stepped aside, watching.

“You look so weird in this world’s outfit,” Susan commented after a fleeting, awkward moment.  Casper shrugged before he moved past the others to stop in front of her, looking directly into her cautious eyes.  Caspian had only stood this close to her once and they all remembered it by heart.

Softly, he asked, “May I?”

Nobody knew exactly what he was indicating, but Susan nodded anyway.

 

 

 

Edmund was unaware that he was chewing his bottom lip so hard it could bleed; he didn’t care.

His stomach was tied up into a tight knot.  Susan smiled at Casper shyly as he delicately wrapped his arms around her shoulders, nearly the same way he had hugged Lucy yet much gentle.  Peter raised his eyebrow at Casper’s obvious tenderness but didn’t say anything since the hug didn’t last longer than a few seconds.  Edmund released his bruised lip from his teeth.  There was no desperation in those touches; no fire had been ignited between the man and his sister.  Still, Edmund couldn’t miss the way Casper leaned down to whisper something into Susan’s hair that made her face lit up so beautifully.  The boy suddenly hated his heart for clenching funny for no sensible reason; not a good kind of funny, for that matter.

It was him who urged Casper towards Susan in the first place.  Rationally, he shouldn’t be this much irritated by their actions.

He stifled a groan and turned to Lucy. “What do we have for dinner again?”

“We haven’t done anything.  Why don’t we order pizza?  Five’s a crowd,” she beamed. “I’ll order it.  We can talk while waiting.”

The four of them watched their little girl dashed across the room to collect her phone from the table.  Casper retreated back to Edmund’s side, chuckling.

“She’s so…”

“Lucy?” Edmund supplied.

“Yes.  That,” said Casper.  Then he frowned at the tension hanging rich all over the boy. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Casper blinked.  His eyes fixed on Edmund’s reddened lips as he ventured, “Are you…?”

“ _Don’t_ ,” the boy warned sharply.

“Oh,” was all responses Edmund got.  Two eldest Prewetts found that quite odd; all of a sudden, Edmund was bothered by something only Casper seemed to know about, and they had no idea what was going on between them.  Peter decided to brush off the thought and walked to Lucy as she asked what they wanted to order aside from loads of pizza.  Susan followed suit, but not before she took a good look at the pair of dark-haired boys, curious as always.

Edmund felt prickly under his skin at her attentive eyes.  Casper waited until they fell behind before he whispered, “I just did my job, you know.” When Edmund shot him a skeptical look, the man continued sincerely, “I feel like it’s my responsibility to tell her Narnia had wished her luck--- always had and always will.  I’m her messenger.”

The boy gulped.  His brown eyes widened in realization; a hint of shame flashed through them instantly.

“Right,” was all he could manage.

It must be hard for Casper to read through layers of thoughts and emotions Edmund had hidden beneath his nonchalant mask after all these years.  He had always been like this since before he even had entered Narnia.  Edmund might show a lot of things: amusement, anger, cockiness, pride, but vulnerability had never been one of them.  He kept it deep and he hid it well.  Most people had given up trying to understand him a long time ago; even his own siblings and parents.  He’d open up on his own when he was ready.

Somehow, however, Casper could perfectly see right through him now; and Edmund knew it.

They’d got only a brief moment before Lucy would notice their absences at the couch, so Casper smiled at him again and kissed him with his eyes -- with those midnight blacks that contained every star -- kissing and kissing and kissing until the boy’s mind was at bay once again.

It worked.

That was dangerous, Edmund thought.  Casper didn’t need physical contacts to hold power over Edmund’s mind and body.  They didn’t even _touch_ and he felt like Casper had just kissed the life out of him.  Perhaps Edmund should have known better about his prowess; Caspian had always done something similar back when they weren’t allowed to feel a thing towards each other.

“What are you guys doing right there?” Peter asked across the room. “Have a seat, Caspian -- you too, Ed.  We have so many questions to ask both of you!”

“Come on,” Casper whispered, gently placing his hand over the small of Edmund’s back. “We have an interrogation to attend, do we not?”

The other Prewetts looked bewildered as Edmund started laughing hysterically out of the blue.  If Pevensie hadn’t already been crazy about this man, Edmund was sure he could fall in love with those eyes all over again.

And he certainly did.

 

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, so sorry for any error you might see here. But. But, BUT, this story is being beta/brit-picked by the amazing [Saoirse Mooney](http://archiveofourown.org/users/achuislemochroi/pseuds/Saoirse%20Mooney)! I'm going to re-post the edited version one at the time.  
> I can’t promise you how fast I could update the story, anyway thanks for reading! :D


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